


Watson, It's Cold Outside

by lordmonday



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Song Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordmonday/pseuds/lordmonday
Summary: Song fic, based on Baby, It's Cold Outside. Cute, fluffy, admitting of feelings.





	Watson, It's Cold Outside

"I really can't stay any longer, Holmes." Watson said, getting up from his very comfortable chair. Currently, the doctor was spending a very pleasant evening with his old flatmate, but the hour was getting late.

"Don't be silly, Watson, it's cold outside." Holmes replied, setting down a new tray of hot tea. The brilliant detective was dressed casually, refusing to bundle up, as if in rebellion to the weather outside. Watson had to admit, the steaming tea looked tempting.

"I've got to go, Holmes. Mary will be wondering where I am by now." Watson said, picking up his cane and hat. Holmes ignored the doctor, pouring the two of them piping cups of tea and sipping at his own.

"But Watson, it's freezing out. You know how you hate the cold." Holmes said innocently over his tea. He was looking at Watson with an almost mischievous look, and Watson feared slightly for his well-being while at the mercy of a slightly intoxicated Holmes.

"It's England, cold weather is something one has to deal with. Really Holmes, this evening has been so very...nice. It's been a while since we've been able to catch up." Watson said with some regret, spinning his hat in his hands aimlessly. He couldn't spend nearly the amount of time he wished to with he old friend anymore, Mary and his practice taking up most of his time now.

"I'd been hoping you'd drop in, Watson. But come now old chap, you're cold enough in here as it is." the detective said, standing and taking the hat from the doctor, grasping his hand. Watson felt a slight jolt go through him, and did his best to keep any blood from rushing to his face. "There, see? Your hands are like ice." Holmes continued, going back to the table and grabbing the second cup of tea.

"Mary will start to worry, Holmes. She'll surely be pacing soon, thinking I got stuck out in the weather." Watson protested, eyeing the cup in Holmes' hand, his hat in the other. He forced himself not to start eyeing other things as well, cursing himself for having those drinks, even if it was only a few.

"What's your hurry, Watson? It's not all that late yet, and we have a roaring fireplace here. Ten minutes out in that, and you'll be bedridden for a week." Holmes insisted, putting the cup in Watson's hands and inching him over to the fire. Watson tried and failed not to sigh at the glorious heat radiating out of the flames. He missed Holmes expertly tossing his hat onto the hatstand, and the smirk on the detective’s face.

"I really must be off Holmes. If the weather gets any worse I shan't be able to go home at all." Watson said, wondering why exactly he wanted to go home at all. He hadn't even seen Holmes in weeks, let alone be able to sit and have a chat with him. Watson briefly entertained the idea Holmes was running out the clock until the weather made leaving impossible, but soon dismissed it.

"Please, Watson." Holmes said, the doctor turning at his friends less than formal tone. "I so rarely get to see you anymore. And despite Mrs. Hudson's constant lectures, it's not the same as having someone genuinely interesting to talk to. I'm rather lonely, you see...so please, don't hurry along just yet." the detective pleaded, and Watson felt his insides heat up at his friends rather emotional outburst.

"Well...perhaps just half a drink more." Watson conceded, and was rather surprised and pleased at the grin Holmes gave him. It was so rare that Holmes showed real emotion, and Watson didn't think it fair to rob his friend of the one night they had spent together in so long. Of course it had nothing to do with the doctor's own feelings. In the slightest. At all.

"Would you find a good record while I fetch the brandy?" Holmes requested, disappearing into the next room. Watson sighed and shook his head with a smile, going over and looking through the small collection Holmes had while he finished his tea. His friend was like a child sometimes, pleased by the simplest of things. Other times he was pleased by things beyond Watson's comprehension, so perhaps it evened it out.

"The neighbors may complain." Watson pointed out, earning a loud "ha!" from Holmes before he walked in with two glasses and a bottle filled with amber liquid. He tried not to linger on how...comforting the image was, how he found himself relaxing more than he did at the house he shared with Mary. 

"With the weather this bad, we could scream ourselves hoarse and they wouldn't hear a thing." Holmes pointed out, thankfully not looking at his companion as he was pouring the drinks, so he didn't see the doctor flush and fiddle with the cup in his hand as he thought of why the two of them would be screaming in the middle of the night. Watson was able to cover up his embarrassment before Holmes handed him a glass, taking away his teacup.

"What's in this?" Watson asked, the brandy smelling a bit odd to him. It was sweet and familiar, but he had never had anything put in his brandy before. He didn't think Holmes would drug his drink, but he could never be absolutely certain with the detective's odd mannerisms.

"Some sugar and a bit of vanilla. There wouldn't be any cabs still out and about as it is, Watson. The snow is far too much." Holmes pointed out, taking a drink. Watson joined him, liking the sweetness and wondering if he should make a point of purchasing vanilla from now on.

The detective plopped himself down in the sette, staring into the fire and taking another sip of brandy. Watson awkwardly stood there, staring at his friend and trying in vain to will the thoughts trying to gain ground in his head back to their dark corner. The way Holmes' shirtsleeves were just high enough to show the wiry muscle of his arms. How his hair seemed to be messy, yet suit him perfectly, all at once. His dark eyes staring into the fire with intensity enough to match the flames...

I wish I knew how to break this hold...this spell he has on me. Watson thought to himself sadly, hating himself for having such disgusting thoughts swirling around in his head. This was his best friend, but the absence spent from him had only shown the doctor that he wasn't imagining his feelings for the other man, that they wouldn't pass away just because he was living with someone else.

"Are you alright, Watson? Your eyes seem alight with something rather unreadable." Holmes said, snapping the doctor out of his inner thoughts. Watson walked over and sat on the chair opposite Holmes, trying to get a hold of himself as the detective looked at him curiously. Watson quickly finished his drink to cover up not wishing to answer, and Holmes held out the bottle so he could refill it.

"I should say no, sir." Watson said with a smile, his expression becoming more nervous as Holmes got up, then sat next to him on the arm of his chair. He waved the bottle a bit, Watson sighing and holding it out for it to be refilled.

"There's a good man. What would be the sense in hurting my pride?" Holmes asked, refilling his own drink and smirking. Watson rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Between you and me, your pride could do with a slight injury, Holmes. If anyone asks, tell them I refused as heartily as I could." Watson asked, drinking his improved brandy. He was both nervous and slightly giddy that Holmes didn't move back to his own chair, seeming to just enjoy the drink, fire, and good company. Time passed without either of them needing to say a word. 

How can this be so simple, yet so complicated at once? Watson asked himself. He glanced at the clock, groaning inwardly at how late it was becoming. He was loathe to end this night with Holmes, but he had responsibilities...curse them all.

"I really can't stay Holmes, it's getting very late." Watson said, sighing and placing his cup on the side table. He looked up at his friend, freezing when he saw the intensity of Holmes stare.

"Watson, it's very cold outside." Holmes said softly, and Watson found his heartbeat accelerating much more quickly than he thought possible. Then the detective was staring into the fire again, as if nothing more needed to be said. Which, Watson realised, perhaps nothing more needed to be. The words had stopped him in his tracks easily enough.

"I...I've got to get home." Watson said weakly, his protest sounding weak to his own ears. Holmes simply chuckled before looking back down at his friend, the former heat in his stare gone. Had Watson imagined it?

"My dear boy, you would freeze solid out there." Holmes muttered, Watson trying his best to laugh in response, but only a small chuckle coming out. The drink mixed with his close proximity to Holmes wasn't helping those thoughts stay where they were supposed to.

"Perhaps if you'd lend me a coat, I could manage without turning into a human icicle?" the doctor suggested, trying to keep his face as normal as possible, even though he knew it must be bright red by now.

"Last I checked, the snow would easily be up to your knees outside. Not at all suitable weather for traveling, wouldn't you agree?" Holmes asked innocently, but whether by his own imagination or not, the look in the detective's eyes was anything but innocent. His arm was lightly resting on the doctor’s shoulder, nothing perverse about the contact at all, save how warm it was making him. Watson quickly stood up out of his chair, clearing his throat. 

"You've really been grand Holmes, but you see, I simply must..." Watson said, trailing off as he walked towards the front door. His coat wasn't on the rack where he left it, and he debated going out into the blizzard without it. It certainly wouldn't be the smartest move, but he couldn't deal with this feeling inside him without making a complete fool of himself...as well as breaking the law, and possibly his friendship.

"How can you do this to me?" Watson heard his friend mutter, his blood turning colder than the snow that covered the ground outside. Was it too late for him to leave? Holmes wasn't the world's greatest detective for nothing, did he know about what was going on inside Watson?

The doctor turned back toward Holmes, but was barely in time to see the detective before he was pushed roughly against the front door by hands gripping his shirt, Holmes eyes boring holes into Watson's mind. The intensity in them both scared and en-spelled him, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He would go into their depths, even if it meant getting burned.

"Holmes?" Watson asked, but was cut off from further speech by the gentle press of Holmes' lips against his own. This time when the doctor froze, his blood was doing the opposite, boiling with more heat than he thought was possible for his body to produce. Coherent thought was passing away, even as Holmes slowly pulled away from him.

"My dear friend, I apologise sincerely." Holmes said, his expression very hard to read in the dark and closeness of their odd embrace. "I know you must think me very vile indeed, but I find it most difficult to control myself when in your presence. I needed you to know, and since this was one of the rare moments that words have not come easily to me...this was the only thing I could think of. Not including the fact that every fiber of my being was urging me to do so."

Watson was still in a daze, barely understanding the words that were pouring from Holmes' mouth. He simply couldn't be saying the things Watson thought he was, it wasn't possible. Holmes didn't feel emotion, both love and lust were entirely beyond him, weren't they? Holmes turned away from his friend, seeming loathe to let go of his shirt, his hands placed behind his back as he took a few steps away. 

"I will, of course, understand if you go to the authorities about this. I did confess in a rather surprising manner, after all, and at a rather inopportune time. You're to be happily married soon, and I don't wish to ruin anything that brings you happiness, Watson." Holmes explained in an eerily calm voice, as if he were discussing the weather once more. He was attempting to place walls around him, as he often did, but Watson could see the tenseness in his shoulders, the grip his fingers had on one another. 

Watson didn't talk for a moment, letting everything swirl around in his head as he tried to make sense of all this. "Holmes, I don't understand...what you mean to tell me, is...?" Watson asked, needing to be absolutely sure. Holmes turned back toward him, his face more fragile than Watson had ever seen it.

"Watson...I'm in love with you. I had a speech planned at some point, but I'm afraid I can't recall it at present." Holmes said, rubbing the back of his neck and not meeting Watson's eyes. "I don't think I even finished it..."

"That's...that’s more than alright, old chap." Watson said, torn between dozens of different emotions at once. He was ecstatic about this new, totally unforeseen development, but also more nervous and scared than he had ever been in his life. He had fantasies about Holmes returning his feelings, but he'd never actually thought it could happen.

"You don't seem to be reacting as I'd anticipated. Are you in shock? Do you need to sit down?" Holmes asked worriedly whilst fidgeting, something Holmes didn't do very often. Watson just smiled, making Holmes' expression turn to one of confusion.

"Holmes, I couldn't call the authorities about a crime of which I am also guilty." Watson said, feeling rather lightheaded. It was odd, finally admitting the truth, but it was Holmes' turn to react differently than anticipated. The detective's eyes widened, and for a full minute he just stared at Watson, his mind obviously racing.

"I was right!" Holmes shouted, smiling excitedly like he'd just solved a grand case, remaining unaffected by Watson's blank look.

"I beg your pardon?" Watson asked, utterly confused. Holmes began to pace, becoming quite animated. 

"All this time, I thought that perhaps I'd been imagining what I'd seen about you! I thought it was my own perversions influencing my deductions, my observations! I spent hours trying...Watson, are you really?" Holmes asked, cutting off his tirade and looking at Watson with something akin to wonder.

Watson chuckled nervously. "I guess there's no use hiding it, though apparently I didn't do a good job according to you. I've felt this way about you for more than a year, but I thought I was being so careful. What gave me awa-" the doctor's question was cut off by Holmes' fingers on his lips. Watson felt blood rush to his face as Holmes gently traced them, examining Watson's face with curious eyes.

"Holmes, there's bound to be talk about us. At least some people will imply things. We're going to have to be very careful." Watson said, Holmes beginning to pull him back towards the fire. Their eyes were locked on one another, as if seeing each other for the first time.

"Watson, imagine my lifelong sorrow if you caught something like pneumonia out there and died. I would not only go into a terrible depression, I would never forgive you. Whatever they throw at us, we'll be able to handle, together." Holmes said confidently, pulling a surprised doctor down to the floor next to the fire.

"One thing I'm very thankful for, Holmes." Watson said, Holmes tilting his head in response.

"And what's that, my dear Watson?" Holmes asked, his hand resting on Watson's neck. The doctor grinned, leaning in and giving the detective a kiss that had both of them breathing hard in no time. The wind howled again outside, but Watson only snuggled closer to Holmes.

"I'm so very glad that it's cold outside."

**Author's Note:**

> Not opposed to attempting to make more, especially if smut is involved, if people would like.
> 
> This is something I wrote almost five years ago. Did some light editing and decided to post it.


End file.
